ever see you again
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: "I may have to rethink a few things though. This was my favorite shirt." Daryl groaned and covered his eyes again. "Look, ma'am, I'm sorry she said that. She's…" The sound of her merry laughter brought his head up and his temper flared at her clear enjoyment at his expense. "Fuck that," he growled. "She's right. You look ridiculous."
1. Chapter 1

The girl was quiet, too quiet, and when he looked down to check on her, he saw her staring intently at something behind her. "Soph, what're you looking at?"

Her hand eased into his and she tugged him down to her level. "Do you see her? She looks like the fairy in my storybook. Except for that ugly shirt. It's awful."

The woman under discussion, flicked a glance their way but it was obvious she'd heard from the way her mouth quirked into a grin. That didn't keep his face from going hot. Sophia, at five years old, was prone to speaking her mind and never mind the consequences. Her Uncle Merle busted his sides every time the girl popped off but Daryl sighed and then tried to explain for the hundredth time why it wasn't proper to say whatever came into her head.

"Sophia," he began in a warning tone.

"But it's true," his daughter insisted and, to his dismay, pointed at the woman to underscore her point. "She looks just like Blue Belle from my book. She has the same silver hair and big pretty eyes but Belle's dress is like mist and fog. That lady's shirt has those ugly red flowers all over it. Belle would never wear that."

Daryl could feel his face flaming as the woman covered her mouth, shoulders shaking as she laughed behind her hand. "I'm sorry," he mumbled while giving Sophia a quelling look. "Soph, tell the lady you're sorry too."

To his surprise, the woman crouched down and let her smile widen. "Aren't you the smart one," she announced. "I didn't think anyone would recognize me in these clothes but you did, didn't you?"

Sophia stared and then she spun to look at her father with a joyous expression. "See!" She crowed. "She's Belle. The ugly shirt is a dis…a dis…a costume. She's hiding." She sidled closer to the woman and, in a conspiratorial tone, whispered. "I knew it was you."

"It's okay," the woman murmured back. "But let's keep this our little secret. You can call me Carol instead."

Sophia nodded solemnly and shook the woman's proffered hand. She then ducked behind her father, her little cheeks rosy with excitement. Daryl fidgeted but managed a little nod when the woman straightened and met his gaze. "Sorry," he said again. "Appreciate you going along with her."

"No problem," the woman, Carol, returned easily. "She's just speaking her mind. Nothing wrong with that." She glanced down at her shirt and gave a rueful smile. "I may have to rethink a few things though. This was my favorite shirt."

Daryl groaned and covered his eyes again. "Look, ma'am, I'm sorry she said that. She's…" The sound of her merry laughter brought his head up and his temper flared at her clear enjoyment at his expense. "Fuck that," he growled. "She's right. You look ridiculous."

Carol's eyes rounded and she started laughing all the harder at his suddenly horrified expression. "I can see where she gets it from," she observed. "You're a real sweet talker too." She adjusted the strap of her shopping bag over her shoulder and then gave them a little wave as she walked away. "Bye, Sophia. It was nice to meet you." Her gaze touched on Daryl's confused expression and she laughed again. "I hope you and your daddy have a nice afternoon."

Sophia waved back and called, "Bye, Belle." She was practically bouncing in excitement as the woman disappeared into the crowd.

"Let's get our stuff and go home, Sophia," Daryl ordered tiredly. "And remind me to never leave you with your Uncle Merle again. You're picking up his bad habits."

The little girl nodded agreeably and took his hand as they made their way to the checkout stations. "Okay, Daddy."

* * *

"Daddy said he wouldn't gonna leave me with you anymore," Sophia confided, her voice muffled by the wash cloth she was using to scrub her face.

Merle Dixon snorted under his breath and looked on in interest as his niece dropped her cloth on the sink and moved on to brushing her teeth. "Your daddy's full of shi…crap." He hastily amended, when those bright blue eyes turned in his direction. "He worries more than an old woman, that boy does. What got him riled up this time?"

"I told Belle her shirt was ugly at the store today." Noticing his darkening expression, Sophia hunkered her shoulders and shifted her feet. "Well it was. She usually wears pretty dresses that match her eyes. She didn't have her wings on neither."

"What in the world are you going on about, girl? Wings?"

The girl's chin lifted, reminding Merle of Daryl at his most stubborn. Even the way her eyes narrowed was his brother all over again. It made him want to laugh but he kept his face serious. Wouldn't do to let the little brat know she'd already gotten back in his good graces. "Belle from my book was at the store. I didn't know her at first cause she had big red flowers all over her shirt. Daddy told me to tell her sorry cause I said it was ugly but she didn't mind. She told me I was smart for knowing it was her."

Now that was interesting. Baby brother had talked with a real live woman in front of Sophia. Merle had been trying to get Daryl back in the game for years but the fool stubbornly insisted that he didn't have time for nothing but his girl and work. This, to Merle's knowledge, was the first time Daryl had spoken with a female in a coon's age. "You say her name's Belle, peanut?"

"She told me to call her Carol," Sophia said around a mouthful of toothpaste. "She was hiding, you see. Didn't want anybody else to know it was her." She whirled to give him a concerned look. "You won't tell, will you? She'll be mad if she finds out."

"My lips are sealed," Merle promised solemnly. "I won't tell a soul. You say she was at the store? You mean Greene's over on Senoia?" When Sophia nodded, Merle grinned and patted the little girl on the head. "That's good. That's real good. Best you hurry up and get to bed. Wouldn't want your daddy coming in and giving us hell because you're too tired for school tomorrow."

Hershel Greene knew trouble when he saw it and Merle Dixon stopping by in the middle of the day, asking to speak with him was nothing but trouble.

"Well if it ain't Farmer Hershel," the elder Dixon observed as he sidled up to the service desk.

Hershel sighed but then gave him a smile and a nod. "And there's the black sheep of the Dixon clan, Merle. What can I do for you, son?"

The man straightened and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "I was hoping you could help me out. My brother and his gal was in here yesterday and made the acquaintance of one of your customers. Soph took a liking to her so I was hoping we could get em together. Gal needs a woman around. My brother dotes on her but he ain't no momma, if you take my meaning."

"Daryl know you're playing matchmaker?" Hershel asked idly. "Can't say he'd be too happy if he did."

Merle shrugged, as unconcerned as anybody Hershel'd ever seen. "Boy would throw a fit but that's not what's important. Sophia is. She needs a momma and if my brother won't see to it, then it's my duty as their closest kin to get it done. The kit said her name's Carol. Does that ring a bell?"

"Has to be Carol Peletier," Beth, Hershel's youngest daughter, piped up from behind the desk. "She was in here yesterday like always."

"Peletier, you said." Merle repeated in satisfied tones. "And where can I find Miss Carol, sweetheart?"

Beth, missing the warning looks her father was giving her, answered quickly. "She teaches at Woodbury School. Comes in here every Thursday afternoon like clockwork. The school only has half day sessions that day. She lives a couple of streets over, on Alexandria."

"Thank you," Merle dipped his chin and shared his smile between father and daughter. "Much obliged to you folks." With that, he stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled merrily as he headed for the front.

"Doodlebug," Hershel said wearily as he watched the man leave. "I wish you hadn't done that."

Beth gave him a sunny grin and twisted her blonde hair around her fingers as she shrugged. "I think it's sweet, Daddy. Besides, wouldn't it be romantic if it worked out?"

Hershel waved her off, shaking his head as she sauntered off to help Jimmy unload the vegetables that had just come in.

Daryl wore his habitual scowl as he watched his brother stroll in, whistling as he came. "You're late," Daryl grumbled. "Shoulda been here two hours ago. Now we're gonna be behind all damned day."

"Had to run some errands, Darylina. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Told Dale we'd have his car done by noon," Daryl huffed as he tugged on a bolt, finally getting it loose. "No way that's gonna happen now."

"He'll get over it," Merle waved his hand airily. "Let me grab my tools and I'll help you. Tara picking up Little Bit this afternoon?"

"Yeah. I'm supposed to pick her up from there around seven or so."

"I'll do that," Merle offered. "Least I can do since I put us behind."

Daryl gave a grunt of agreement, his attention still fixed on the troublesome motor before him. Merle smirked before ducking into the back to get his toolbox. His plan was coming together nicely. One more round of questions for his niece would get the last details nailed down and then he would get this show on the road.

"Hey, Daryl," Martinez ducked into the bay and tapped lightly on the hood to get the man's attention. When Daryl slid out from underneath the old Ford looking pissed, Martinez chuckled and shrugged by way of apology. "Sorry, man. Got a live one up front with a bike. That's your speed, man, not mine. Figured you should take it. I can finish up here."

Daryl rolled to his feet and yanked a rag out of his back pocket to swipe the sweat off his brow. "A bike?" he questioned. "He say what the problem was?"

Martinez let out another of those surprising chuckles and shook his head. "She didn't say. Anyway, she's waiting so…"

"I got it. I got it."

He ducked into the office, wiping his palms on his pants. Customers made him nervous so he usually left that sort of thing to the others. Sometimes, though, he just had to bite the bullet. "Sorry you had to wait. Understand you're having some problem with your bike." He trailed off when she turned, mist and fog and storm clouds coming to mind when he saw those blue eyes. "Belle," the name slipped out before he could catch it.

Her smile was luminous as she corrected him. "It's Carol. Nice to see you again. How's your daughter?"

"Sophia," he offered almost shyly. "She's good. At school right now though."

Carol grinned and stuck her hands in her pockets. "I teach over at Woodbury. Where does Sophia go?"

"Hilltop. She's in preschool."

Again, that smile flickered into view. "i love that age. They're so fun. It made my day that she thought I was a character from her book. That's a first for me."

He didn't know what to say. That smile. It made him light headed. It made him want to run like hell in the opposite direction. "So the bike?"

Carol shook her head but obligingly went along with the abrupt change in subject. "I've only had it a few weeks but it doesn't sound right. Doesn't seem to have as much power as it used to." She led him out into the late afternoon light and laughed when he stopped short, his jaw hanging open.

"A Triumph," he shot her a surprised look. "Damn!"

"That's what I said the first time I rode her," Carol laughed again. "It was love at first sight. She's not happy though. Do you mind looking her over?"

Daryl chewed on his thumb as he looked from the woman to the bike. "Yeah, sure. It may take a little while though. Can you hang around?" When she shook her head, he dropped his hand away from his mouth and shrugged helplessly. "I can try but it depends on what I find when I get in there."

"It's okay," she fidgeted with the strap of her purse. "I can call a cab." Reaching into an outside pocket, she retrieved a card and handed it over. "My cell number's on there. Just call me when you're done." She offered up yet another smile. "Say hi to Sophia for me, okay?"

Ignoring the knowing looks he was getting from Martinez and Shumpert, Daryl pocketed her business card and took the bike off the kick stand so he could roll it inside. "I'll do that," he returned. "Good to see you again."

"You too," She put her phone to her ear and started to walk away. "It'll probably be tomorrow, right?" She called back over her shoulder. When Daryl nodded, she covered the phone with her hand. "I'll be back then unless I hear from you first. Hello, I need to be picked up please…." She waved and then walked away, giving the cab company the address of the coffee shop on the corner.

Martinez helped him get the Triumph through the door, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Nice bike," he commented, watching Daryl closely. "Nice lady too."

"Shut up, man," Daryl huffed. "It ain't like that."

Martinez snorted out a laugh at the way Daryl's face reddened. The shade almost matched the candy apple paint job on the mysterious woman's bike. He decided to let it go for now, knowing the younger Dixon had a hair trigger on his temper that it wouldn't do to get on the wrong side of. Didn't mean that he didn't file the information away to share with the elder Dixon brother whenever Merle wandered in though. A scoop like this one had to be worth at least a beer.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl was a firm believer that things, good or bad, always happen in threes. Little events, like butterfly wings, built one upon the other until suddenly the world shifted. He knew better than anyone how fate could tap you on the shoulder. Three. That was the magic number.

 _ **One**_ _  
He didn't love her and she didn't love him. Their stories were pages lifted from the same book. Her mother left without a backwards glance, leaving behind a daughter and a distant husband who had no clue about the needs of a teenage girl. He had a father who loved the drink more than he loved his wife and his boys. Spare the rod; spoil the child. Well, nobody ever accused the Dixon boys of being spoiled._

 _They came together and fell apart just as quickly. It felt good. It was easy. It was someplace to be that wasn't home. No words were said that couldn't be taken back. But then it happened. Late. Two pink lines. Tears and uncertainty. What are we going to do? He was petrified but determined to man the fuck up. Dixons took care of their own and, like it or not, this baby was a Dixon._

 _The world opened up and he walked into it, wide eyed and wondering. There was so much he didn't know, about himself and about this girl, the mother of his child. She laughed through her tears when she told him that her father kicked her out. He always was a bastard, she confided with her hands folded over the small swell of her belly. We'll be alright, he mumbled as he gathered her in. I'll make us alright._

 _The apartment was a hole-in-the-wall but they made it work. It's a girl. How he cursed when he heard those words. What the hell did he know about daughters? They argued over names._

 _I like Brittany, she offered._

 _How bout Marie? Was my momma's name? He mumbled._

 _They told him they were sorry. She was strong but these things happen. The baby was healthy and he could go and see her in the nursery when he was ready. Her eyes were blue and pale tufts of hair crowned her head. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. Those eyes looked at him, all-seeing and all knowing. Wise beyond her minutes. Sophia, he whispered. My baby girl._

 _ **Two**_

Merle Dixon listened with barely concealed interest as Martinez regaled the story of the biker gal and how Daryl had taken a shine to her.

"Should have seen him," Martinez took an appreciative slurp of his beer and laughed. "Could almost hear harps playing or some shit. I think it was love at first sight of that Triumph."

"You don't say," Merle drawled, his narrowed eyed glare giving him away.

"Don't take my word for it, man. He's in there working on it now. I offered to help him but got turned down flat. It's love, I tell you, the head over heels kind."

Merle shouldered the man aside roughly as he headed for the main part of the shop. "Leave it to my baby brother," he muttered to himself. "Got a good woman on the line and he's batting in the minors. Thought I taught the boy better than that."

He found Daryl straddling the bike, motor rumbling with a throaty roar as he twisted the throttle. The one sided smirk on his brother's face spoke volumes. Not that Merle could blame him. The Triumph was a fine piece of machinery. Fine enough to make him wonder about the piece of ass that came with it. The low slung bike was all fine lines and understated power. It had refinement and class. Not at all what Merle expected. He didn't let his admiration for the bike change his mind though. Sophia had her heart set on her Belle. She'd talked about nothing else, peppering Merle with questions about whether or not he thought they'd see her again. They would if Merle had anything to say about it.

"Hey there, little brother," he bit back a grin at how quickly Daryl's dreamy expression faded to his habitual scowl. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Should I come back later? I mean, I can leave you two alone. Best be careful though. The way you've been revving the motor, that tail pipe's bound to be hot."

"Screw you, asshole." Daryl huffed. "You don't know nothing as usual. What do you want?"

Merle admired the candy apple and chrome but chanced a sideways look at his brother. "Can't a man just stop in to say hi. Wanted to ask about Little Bit. She with Tara this evening?"

"Just until five," Daryl answered in a distracted tone, hitting the throttle one last time. The motor purred like a kitten. "I promised her a trip to Doc Magoo's tonight for pizza."

"Shouldn't give her that crap," Merle grumbled. "Nothing but grease and fat. She'll be up all night, dummy."

"That's why I get her the plain cheese with the thin crust, dumb ass. You're the one who let her eat two pieces of that deep dish shit."

Merle shrugged and waved his hand dismissively. "So what's the story with this chick that was in here today. Martinez has a hard on the size of the Washington Monument. Sounds like somebody I ought to look into."

"Sounds like you and Martinez have got too much time on your hands."

Merle couldn't miss the undercurrent of anger in Daryl's voice. This gal, whoever she was, had managed to push Daryl's buttons. He decided to go right for the jugular. Trench warfare and bared blades. It was his only option. "Sophia won't quit talking about that woman you met the other day. She keeps showing me her book and saying how cool it was to see her for real."

"Quit egging her on, Merle. Ain't no good gonna come from it."

"There would be if you'd grow a pair and get back among the living. You ain't dead, brother, far from it. And that girl, your girl, she needs a momma." Merle held up a hand to stay Daryl's furious outburst before he could give it a voice. "You're doing good, better than good but you know it's the truth." Deciding that he'd pushed Daryl enough, Merle ambled toward the door. "Gonna finish up that transmission on the Walsh car then take off. You think on what I said, alright?"

Daryl rolled his eyes but, to Merle's surprise, he gave the smallest of nods.

 _ **Three**_

He stared at the card in his hand for a full minute before blowing out a breath and picking up the phone. It wasn't like he didn't have a legit reason to call after all. The bike just gave him a better excuse than the fact that he wanted to see her again. Before his nerves got the better of him, he rapidly dialed her number and laughed softly when her ring back tone started playing. Freak on a Fucking Leash. The woman was just full of surprises. The song abruptly cut off as the call connected. Her cool, modulated voice was smooth as silk as she said, "Hello."

"Hey," he pushed out through suddenly dry lips. "It's Daryl. From the garage. Just wanted to let you know the bike's ready."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello? Hi? Excuse me? Is Daryl here?"

Merle cursed, "God fucking….shit!" He shook his hand, fingers hurting like hell as the wrench slipped and rapped him smartly across the knuckles. "Dammit," he snarled. "Didn't anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on a man when he's working. Almost broke my hand." He shook his throbbing fingers again, looking disgusted. "What good's a one-handed mechanic? I'll tell you. Useless as a broke dick." The sound of her choked off laughter merely added fuel to his fire. "You fucking think that's funny?"

Carol hid her face behind her hand as she struggled to get her amusement in check. Those steely blue eyes raked her up and down, a reluctant gleam of appreciation briefly overtaking the ire holding court in that auguring gaze. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a sheepish tone. "I called out but nobody answered so I came on back. I honestly thought you'd have heard me coming. It's kinda hard to be quiet in these things." She lifted a booted foot and waggled it back and forth.

Those eyes looked her over again, slow and leisurely, taking in every single detail. "So you're the one that belongs to that little red number that's got my brother so wound up." A smile tugged at his lips, but it was far from friendly. "What happened, sugar tits? You decide to buy yourself a bright and shiny toy but then figured out you ain't got a fucking clue what to do with it? Ain't that typical."

The ridicule in his voice wiped the smile from her face. She straightened, those big eyes going frosty, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Is Daryl here?" She repeated.

Merle took his time getting to his feet, wiping his good hand on his pants as he studied her, enjoying the taut white line she'd managed to make of her mouth. A black leather jacket, nipped in at the waist, hugged her slender curves and showed the slightest hint of red at the neck where the zipper rode low. Red. Of course. Probably bought it special to match the fucking paint job or some shit. Dark washed denim, smooth as moleskin, outlined her legs and were tucked into the knee high black boots she'd waved at him earlier. Those damned boots were the cherry on the cake though. Also black leather with sturdy soles and adjustable straps that allowed her to adapt them to her comfort. He was almost willing to bet his whole paycheck that she'd woke up one morning and decided on a lark that she was gonna play motorcycle chick. Like a kid trying out a new toy.

"Little brother took your toy out for a spin to make sure it's all good. He should be back any time so you're welcome to wait if you want."

"You're his brother?" The surprise in her voice was evident and managed to push every button he had. It put his back up. It wasn't so much what she said as how she said it that pissed him off. "I can see it now that you've mentioned it. You have the same eyes."

His knee jerk response was cut off at the knees by that comment. What the fuck? "He's the sweet one, darlin, Daryl is. Me, I got the looks, the brains and the personality."

"And the modesty," Carol observed, that undercurrent of amusement back in spades. "I am sorry about your hand. If you like, I can help you finish whatever you're working on. I know a little bit about cars."

Merle felt his jaw drop before he could catch it. Know a little bit about cars, did she? Well, he'd just see about that. He waved her over and dropped the wrench into her upturned palm. Merle found himself looking forward to seeing if the woman could back up her words with actions. He thought he could like her under different circumstances. Maybe. If there was no Belle. If his niece hadn't set her heart on a woman she'd only seen once in passing.

* * *

He walked the bike into the bay and shut the motor down, listening to it tick and mutter as the heat dissipated. The Triumph was a little short for him but rode like a dream. A little attention had it purring like a kitten though. He could hardly wait for her to get there so that she could try it out.

Caesar was propped up on the counter, grinning to himself as Daryl came in. He looked like a cat with a face full of cream, practically bouncing on his toes once he caught sight of Daryl. "Man, you gotta see this. You're gonna shit a brick."

A dozen scenarios ran through his head, none of them good. "Fuck me, now what? Randall ain't been in the back again, has he? I told that little prick to stay the hell out of there. He don't know shit from shinola."

The boy in question wandered into the lobby, wearing a douche bag expression. "Since when do we let just anybody off the street come back and work on cars? You guys said you'd teach me if I didn't mess up no more. It's been almost a month since the last time, Daryl, a whole month."

"What?" Daryl looked from one to the other in confusion. "Just anybody? Dammit, somebody better tell me what the hell's going on."

In lieu of an answer, Martinez jerked his head toward the far corner where Merle was supposed to be getting Shane Walsh's car tuned up. Daryl stepped up beside Caesar and followed his gaze to the low slung silver Vette. The hood was up and the motor sounded smooth as silk satin but that ass bent over the fender, clad in tight denim didn't belong to his brother.

"Hold up a minute," a voice that was most definitely female called out. Her hips shifted with her movements as she made an adjustment. "Try it now." The car fired up, the low throb of the powerful engine roaring to life when whomever was behind the wheel hit the gas.

Daryl's face flooded with color, blood pounding in his temples as his fury mounted at the sight of Merle grinning like an idiot as he climbed out of the car. "God. Damn. It." Daryl enunciated every syllable separately and distinctly. "Have you lost your damned mind!"

"Hey, little brother!" Merle greeted. "Was just keeping this one occupied until you got done playing with her toy. Bout damned time you got back."

He ignored Merle for the moment, shocked to his core when he saw Carol sidled away from the car, wearing a guilty expression. "Hi," he pushed the words out through suddenly dry lips.

"Hi," she answered softly. "Sorry about this. I caused your brother to hurt his hand so I offered to help out to make amends. I guess I shouldn't have but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Really, I'm sorry." She trailed off as a heavy arm draped over her shoulder.

"Don't be giving her a hard time now. I was right there the whole time and believe it or not, the gal knows her way around an engine. I'm tempted to take her down to T-Dogs to see if she can hold her liquor. If she can, I just might have to stake a claim."

Carol shrugged free of his loose hold and took a couple of steps to put some distance between them. "Charming but I'm gonna have to take a rain check, boys. I've got somewhere to be. Daryl, is the bike ready?"

Shooting his brother warning looks, Daryl nodded and motioned for her to follow him, ignoring Martinez and Randall's swiftly hidden smirks. "Look, whatever my asshole brother said or did," he ventured once they were out of earshot. "I…uh..Merle…"

"It's okay," she broke in. "He was fine. Just fine."

Carol trailed her hand along the flaring lines of the candy apple gas tank and, with a practiced movement, straddled the bike. A quick flick of her fingers brought it to life. She twisted the throttle and grinned for all she was worth at the sound. "It's perfect!" She enthused. "What was wrong with it?"

"Just needed a little tweaking," Daryl said once she'd cut the engine. "Should be just like new from now on though." He handed her the bill and then pocketed the check she handed over in return. "Thanks." He hesitated, watching as she took a black lacquer helmet out of her backpack. "It was good to see you again," he finished rather lamely as she flashed a smile before donning the rest of her gear. "Listen, Carol, do you think maybe…" He cut off as she keyed the ignition and hit the kickstand with a booted foot, the other braced to keep the bike upright.

"Pick me up at seven tomorrow night," she called out loudly so as to be heard over the sound of the engine. "And tell Sophia I said hello." With that, she offered up a jaunty wave and bounded out into the early afternoon light.

He watched her until she disappeared from view, his jag sagging like some sort of dumbass. Pick her up at seven. "Fuck me," he breathed as he stared after her. "I'll be there with bells on."


	4. Chapter 4

_"God save us from people who mean well." ― Vikram Seth, A Suitable Boy_

Her doorbell rang at precisely 7pm much to Carol's delight. Endearingly prompt. She added it to her list of his adorable traits and then went to answer the door. Pausing only to take a quick peek in the hallway mirror, she wrinkled her nose at the red blouse and brightly patterned scarf she'd chosen on a whim. It was too late to change now. Carol donned her best smile and pulled the door open, "Did you have a hard time finding the place?"

"No," a male voice answered in a cat with a face full of cream tone. "I can track with the best of em, sweetheart. Kinda helps that your name's on the mailbox."

Carol didn't know what to say once it registered that Merle Dixon was on her porch, propped up against the jamb and smiling for all he was worth. "Uh…hi," she said rather lamely. "It's good to see you again. What are you…I mean…I wasn't expecting…" She was further confused to see that his expression was even more dumbfounded than hers.

"You're…," he stammered as he straightened quickly and then took a quick look over his shoulder. If she didn't know better, she'd think it was to take another look at her mailbox. "That's…Carol Peletier?" He questioned. "You're Belle? I mean, you are, right?"

Comprehension dawned, bringing a luminous smile with it. "You're Sophia's uncle," she stood aside and waved him into the living room. "Now I definitely see where she gets it from." She laughed behind her hand at his confused expression . "Her way with words," Carol clarified.

He couldn't help giving her a reflexive scowl but nodded anyway. "Yeah, Little Bit's my niece, and she says what she thinks but there's nothing wrong with that, is there?" Squaring his shoulders, he took a spot on the couch and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, expression suddenly serious. "But that's not why I'm here."

Carol held her silence and sat down in a chair opposite. "Is something wrong? I paid Daryl when I picked up the bike. Was i supposed to do something else?"

"Shit no, nothing like that," Merle growled. "Listen, this is gonna sound fucking fucked up but…"

Glancing at the clock, she winced when she saw how late it was getting. "But," she prompted as politely as she could.

"That little gal means the world to me," Merle confided. "A lot of things coulda gone wrong but Daryl, man, he stepped up. Didn't care about nothing but giving that baby anything and everything. He's done right by her, Daryl has, but a girl needs a woman around."

The world heaving on its axis couldn't have shocked her more. Him dropping to his knees professing undying love wouldn't have caused the shock wave that rushed through her in that moment. "Does Daryl know you're here?" She asked warily.

"Fuck no!" He exclaimed in a scandalized voice. "He'd lose his shit and I'd probably have to kick the little bastard's banty ass up and down the block." The big man straightened. "I ain't here for him," he declared and then barked out a laugh. "Well, I am but Soph is the real reason. She took to you. Ain't hushed since that day at the store, truth be told." He leaned forward eagerly, blue eyes steady on her face. "Sophia, you've seen her. You know, don't you? Hell, woman, are you gonna make me say it straight?"

God help her but she wanted to put him out of his misery. This redneck hard ass of a man had come here with what seemed to be the best of intentions. She couldn't wrap her head around it but the truth was sitting on her couch, wearing the most out of place pleading expression she'd ever seen. "I think you should go," she heard herself say in a hoarse whisper. "Please."

Those blue eyes turned icy, anger and disbelief warring for purchase on his face. "You ain't even gonna consider it," he mouthed the words separate and distinct, tossing them out like stones. "Don't give a devil-damned fuck about that little gal's feelings."

"I didn't say that," she broke in hurriedly. "I said nothing of the sort, dammit, but you have to go. Daryl's gonna be here any minute."

He stomped toward the door, his back stiff with ire, until what she said penetrated and he spun on his heel to face her. "What the…Daryl? My brother? That Daryl?"

"Yes, your brother, Daryl," she all but screeched. "Now will you get out of here. I'll think about what you said, I swear, but please just go."

Merle had to fight back a whole slew of comments but he did as she asked and made haste for the front door. He yanked it open and then rocked back on his heels, suppressing the urge to cuss a blue streak when he met his brother's wide-eyed gaze.

"Merle, what the hell are you doing here?"


	5. Chapter 5

The silence that followed was palpable. It had depth, weight, substance and nobody wanted to be the one who broke brothers squared off on either side of the door, blue eyes only a shade apart in hue studying the other. Carol's eyes darted back and forth between them, like a spectator at a tennis match. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unsure how to explain Merle's presence in her home but also unwilling to spill the beans about his true purpose. She wasn't sure Daryl would believe it and, truth be told, she hardly believed it herself. _He's done right by her, Daryl has, but a girl needs a woman around_.

"I said, what the hell are you doing here?" Daryl demanded again, his eyes steady on this brother's face.

Before Merle could say a word, Carol chimed in. "He just came by to..."

Right on top of her, Merle blurted, "I just came by to..."

Daryl huffed and then held up a hand as the two started talking over each other again. "Dammit, hold on. It's a simple question. It ain't rocket science. What's my brother doing here?"

She saw Merle suck in a breath, his expression going stiff and cold, and got the feeling that whatever he was about to say wouldn't make the situation any better. "He tracked me down," she confessed in a tired murmur, wincing as both of them turned on her wearing identical disbelieving expressions. "Sophia, she told him about Belle so he took it upon himself to come find me. She wanted to see me again, so like any good uncle, Merle wanted to make it happen. That's it."

Daryl would have been hard pressed to miss the aggravated look Merle shot the woman, but he was too busy turning her revelations over to give it much thought. "Hell, bro, you trying to play Cupid or something?" When crimson flooded his brother's face with color, Daryl's turned a similar hue but his was due to anger rather than irritation or embarrassment. "You gotta be fucking kidding me, Merle. You are, ain't ya?"

One shoulder lifted in a barely there shrug as the man slouched against a nearby wall and crossed his arms. "Soph needs a woman around and she likes this one. You like this one." Again with the uncaring shrug. "I don't see a problem, Darylina. You're hear, ain't ya?"

"Wait, wait," Carol broke in, stepping between the two before it went any further. "While I can't agree with his methods, the reasons behind them are honorable." She side eyed Merle and her lips quirked into a grin. "Mostly," she finished in a wry tone. "You," she leveled a finger at the elder Dixon. "Get out of my house. And you," she nodded toward the younger, her face softening into a different kind of smile, one that drew a similar one from him. "Are you staying or going with him? Just so you know, I'd like it if you stayed."

He jerked his chin up in an approximation of a yes and heard her laugh. Merle, that dumbass, snorted under his breath before clasping Daryl on the shoulder and ducking out the front door. Daryl eased it shut behind him and then cursed softly before following her deeper into the house.

* * *

 _Merle watched them through the glass, his baby brother cradling a pink swathed bundle in his arms. Her blonde tufts reminded him of Daryl's when he was a baby. White as cotton and candy floss fine until the boy started walking. Their momma loved to run her fingers through it, the same way Daryl's were running through his gal's now. Then and there, Merle made a promise. No more fuck ups. No more excuses. They were his family, by God, and he was gonna be there for them no matter what._

 _Whatever ever it took. Whatever he had to do._

* * *

They didn't really speak after that, one word replies or gestures sufficed in lieu of a conversation that neither of them knew how to carry out. The odd thing and it didn't escape their notice, was that they weren't uncomfortable in each other's presence. The silence, unlike the one earlier, was easy and open and just waiting for the right time to be filled. It didn't rush toward a conclusion but was perfectly happy to linger, elastic and malleable, for as long as it took. Until they were ready.

He found himself standing on her porch hours later, with vague memories of how the night passed but no real recollection of having gotten to this moment. She stood facing him, her hand on the knob and a tentative smile wavering on her lips, unsure for the first time. Daryl felt his pulse pounding in his ears, his mouth dry as a desert as he stared back at her.

"I..uh..I had a good time," he ventured. "And I'm sorry about before. Merle, he..he's Merle. It's..."

"It's okay," she broke in and laid a hand on his arm, failing to notice how he trembled at her touch. "I had a good time too, Daryl, really." Her thumb drifted in lazy circles that lifted ripples of goose flesh in its wake.

He never meant to kiss her but it just happened. A small shift in his stance, her head canted back as her chin lifted and they were right there. Brief. Fleeting. A touch as light as a moth's wing. Her fingers tightened on his arm as she sidled closer. He found his way, curling his opposite arm around her waist, his hand splayed over the small of her back to hold her close. They came up for air, blinked stupidly at the other, and then dove back in. Her kitten lick of his bottom lip was a match to a fuse...and then they were consumed. Scorching, leaping, twisting fire in the blood, racing headlong into uncharted waters without a backwards glance.

Panting like she'd run for miles, Carol slipped out of his arms and through her front door, stopping long enough to whisper, "bye," before locking it behind her. She stayed there with her cheek pressed against the smooth wood until she heard the muffled clatter of his boots going down the steps.

She then sagged against the jamb, her eyes closed and fingers tracing the bow of her lip. She could still taste him. "I'm not gonna fall in love with you. I won't," she told herself fiercely. A little voice in the back of her head laughed and then spoke, sounding for all the world like his dumbass brother. _It's too late for that, sweetheart. You're already gone._


	6. Chapter 6

_I've noticed that sometimes when we aren't actively searching for something, what we seek, finds us." ― Darryl Webb_

"I know that look," Carol observed as she entered the principal's office and leaned against the jamb. "Whatever it is, the answer is no. Sorry."

Jacqui Prescott rolled her eyes but still motioned for Carol to enter. "You don't even know what it is yet. C'mon, Carol, that's not like you. At least hear me out before you turn me down flat. Please?"

"It's still no but go ahead if you must." Carol flopped down in her usual chair and waved her hand dismissively.

Jacqui rolled her eyes again and then dove right in, her words seeming to trip over each other in her haste to get them said. "We, i.e. the school board, have a problem. Normally, this never happens but when it rains, it pours." She shuffled a stack of papers on her desk, before finding the one she sought. "I got a call from a friend of mine over at Hilltop Academy this morning. Do you know Michonne Chevalier? She's been the principal over there for the past two years? Brilliant really. With her at the helm, Hilltop has become a top ranked school. Anyway, they're running a pilot program for early childhood education that's being watched by educators all over the country. They have to follow a very stringent regime regarding every aspect of the program. This even extends to the substitutes who oversee the class when the regular teacher is out." Her eyebrows lifted hopefully with that statement.

Carol couldn't help but laugh at the pleading look on the woman's face. "Jacqui, I'm a home economics teacher. I can't possibly see what this has to do with me."

"You minored in early childhood education," Jaqui reminded, waving another sheaf of papers under Carol's nose. "You've filled in before here when needed." Jaqui sighed and then rubbed her eyes tiredly. "And the only two on our list who could take the class both are out of pocket. Tara Chambers is on vacation and Karen Brooks is on maternity leave. You're our last hope." She gave Carol another of those hopeful looks. "Besides, I already told Michonne that you'd do it. You won't make a liar out of me, will you?"

"Dammit, Jacqui!" Carol exploded. "Why did you do that? You should have asked me first."

"I didn't think you'd say no. You never have before."

Carol groaned aloud. "You never asked me to go to Hilltop before."

"And that makes a difference?"

Remembering the kiss on her porch a few days ago, Carol shivered. "It does now."

* * *

Michonne Chevalier was as exotic as her name implied. The woman was beautiful, her dark eyes radiating intelligence as she rose to offer her hand. Her beautifully tailored suit showed off but didn't emphasize her trim form. Carol smiled and took her hand, clasping it warmly, before letting her gaze wander over the framed photos on the wall just behind Michonne. One in particular caught her eye...Michonne standing in a combat stance with a sword held in ready position above her head.

Michonne followed her look at released a radiant grin at Carol's surprised expression. "Just a hobby I picked up. It's a great work out."

"Impressive," Carol admitted with a grin of her own. "A bit scary but impressive."

Michonne snorted under her breath. "So says the woman who rides a motorcycle and is rumored to be one heck of a shot. I don't put much stock in appearances, Carol. The book is always infinitely more interesting than the cover. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"I'm glad I could help," Carol demurred. "Jacqui said you need someone for a couple of days because the regular teacher became ill."

"Ruptured appendix if you can believe it," Michonne confirmed. "I've known Deanna Monroe a long time. She's the most dedicated teacher I've ever come across. Her son said she'd been in pain for a week but wrote it off. Well, she's in the hospital and my usual fallback won't be back in town until next week."

She handed over a file along with a neatly bound synopsis of their program. "There's eighteen students in our current class, ten girls and eight boys. The demographics are included. We're very proud of what we've accomplished so far. Testing indicates that our approach is working but even the loss of a couple of days could be problematic for the overall results. That's why we can't simply pull someone off the regular substitute list to fill in. Our study parameters won't allow for it. You fit the bill, even though your focus was mainly on older kids. From what Jacqui tells me, the protocol shouldn't give you any trouble."

Carol scanned the roster and wasn't surprised to see Sophia Dixon listed among the students. Of course she was. "It'll be fine. So are you taking me down or am I on my own?"

"I'll walk you down," Michonne climbed to her feet and straightened her jacket as she rounded the desk. "So," she commented as they headed down the hall. "Jacqui wasn't kidding me, was she? You really ride a bike and shoot for fun in your spare time?"

Carol laughed at her incredulous tone, "Nope, she told you right. Why? Is it that far fetched of an idea?"

"No," Michonne hurriedly assured only to break into laughter. "Well, yeah. I mean, you look like Suzy Homemaker in that get up, not exactly the Xena Warrior Princess description Jacqui outlined when we spoke on the phone."

"Well, I've been told that my casseroles are lethal and my cookies are to die for," Carol volunteered before giving a rueful laugh as she plucked at her sweater with the infamous red flowers. "As for this, I've been told recently that it's awful. Haven't gotten around to replacing it yet."

The two women shared a laugh and then paused before a brightly colored door. "No need to be nervous," Michonne said kindly. "They're a good group of kids. You'll be fine."

Carol didn't have the heart to tell her the real reason for her anxious expression so she nodded and then followed the woman inside. Her eyes immediately found the tiny blonde girl sitting at the third table, whispering to her friend. Sophia looked up with the others at the sound of the door opening, her eyes widening when they fell on Carol.

"Belle!" The little girl bounded to her feet and made a beeline for the woman, a joyous smile wreathing her small face. "What are you doing here?"

Avoiding Michonne's speculative look, Carol bent and gave Sophia a quick hug. "I'm gonna be here with you guys today since Mrs. Monroe is sick. Is that alright?"

Sophia bounced on her toes and squealed excitedly. "Really? You're gonna be here all day? That's so cool!" She bent closer and whispered, "I told all my friends about meeting you but I don't think they believed me."

Michonne, who was watching the conversation in interest, broke in. "Why don't you take your seat, Sophia. Let's introduce the rest of the class to Miss Carol. Maybe you can be helper for the day? Would you like that?" The girl nodded eagerly and scampered back to her seat. "Belle?" Michonne inquired softly and smirked when Carol just shook her head. "Call me if you need me," she offered another of those sun bright smiles. "And come see me at lunch. We'll chat then."

"Okay," Carol returned and then blew out a breath before she broke out her biggest grin and turned to the class. "Good morning, boys and girls, I'm Carol Peletier. It's good to meet you."

* * *

Merle Dixon watched his niece shovel her food into her mouth with gusto and had to bite back a laugh. "Easy does it, Little Bit, or you're gonna get choked. Didn't they feed you today at that fancy school of yours?"

Sophia paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, and bobbed her head excitedly. "Sure they did, Uncle Merle. I just want to hurry up and get to bed so that tomorrow will come quicker."

The two brothers exchanged amused looks and Daryl chimed in, "Why do you want tomorrow to come quicker, sugar? Your class having a party or something?"

Gulping down another bite of her macaroni and cheese, Sophia chewed vigorously and then swallowed before answering. "No, but Belle was my teacher today. She's gonna be there tomorrow too. It was so great! I was her helper all day." Her face fell abruptly. "She said that Judith could be helper tomorrow though."

Merle was the first one to put it together. "Belle was your teacher," he clarified. "You mean Carol, the lady you met at the store?" When Sophia nodded, Merle covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh at the dumbstruck expression his baby brother now wore. "Well ain't that something?" He noticed that his niece still wore a downcast look and questioned. "What's the matter, honey?"

Sophia heaved a sigh and her bottom lip drooped pitifully. "I wish I could see her every day. She's so much fun and everybody thought she was the best even if she was wearing her ugly shirt again. I told her I thought she was still the prettiest of all the fairies, even in that shirt."

"God, Soph," Daryl groaned behind his hands. "You didn't say that to her, did you?" The girl nodded innocently, looking at her father with guileless eyes. "Sophia, you can't just go around..."

"Soph," Merle broke in, avoiding Daryl's disgusted huff. "You invite your teacher over to the house for a picnic this weekend. I'll write everything down and stick it in your backpack so you can give it to her. Can you do that?" The girl swore that she could, wearing the widest smile the Dixon brothers had ever seen.

When she went into the living room to watch her show before bed, Daryl rounded on his brother. "Remind me to kick your ass later."

Merle only chuckled and then gathered up his dishes to take them to the kitchen, whistling merrily as he went.


	7. Chapter 7

_I don't know what we're doing here – you and me … I don't know what we are or what we can be, but this doesn't have to be about that. This can just be about … a chance. Taking a chance." ― Dianna Hardy, Broken Lights_

Carol tilted her head back to look up at the stars and shook her head. Nothing in this life was forever, not the dirt and grass under her fingers nor the silvery pinpricks of light overhead, punching holes in the darkness. You could be perfectly settled, happy and content in your little corner of the world and suddenly, everything changed. The turn of a card. The roll of the dice. The plink plink of a coin toss...heads, tails, heads, tails. Until you found yourself somewhere you never imagined with no idea of how you'd gotten there.

* * *

That's how she felt in this moment. The weight in her lap shifted, drawing her gaze and she looked down, the uncertainty that plagued her taking a back seat to an onrush of affection and longing she didn't quite know how to handle. Daryl Dixon was sound asleep, stretched out on his side and her crossed legs doubling as his pillow. His breath eddied through slightly parted lips, not as warm on the tender skin of her belly as the calloused thumb unconsciously making small circles just above the waistband of her jeans. His other hand was clasped within hers, lying on the blanket by her hip. He murmured something too soft to hear and nuzzled his cheek against her thigh.

The fingers of her free hand dug furrows in the soil, tearing a handful of grass free. It was up to her, he'd made that abundantly clear before he opted out of further discussion by falling asleep.

 _"I ain't no picnic," he'd confessed in his slow, drawling rasp of a voice. "You gotta know that up front. It's just been me and Sophia for a long time. And Merle," he added as an afterthought. "If you decide you want to take me on, know that we're a package deal. You take one, you get us all."_

She studied him in the wavering light of the moon, her mind overrun with thoughts and emotions and what if's. It wasn't that she wasn't tempted because she was. He brought a part of her to life that she'd never known existed. It was how she felt when she rode her bike, with nothing ahead of her but open road and a wide blue sky and a whole other turn on the throttle. It was the spark in her blood when she leveled her gun and knew it would be a center mass shot before she pulled the trigger. It was that half-second when, after patiently explaining a difficult concept for the third time, a flash of understanding lit her student's eyes.

It was the smile on that little girl's face when she brought out her story book and flipped the well worn pages to the dog ear and exclaimed, "See, I knew it was you all along."

It was the oddly satisfied smirk on Merle Dixon's face as he watched the three of them from his perch on the back deck, smoking and sipping a beer.

Carol loved her life. She was happy. She was okay. But this was a chance at something more. Something new. Something wild and wonderful and it was right there...just waiting for her to pick it up. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

* * *

The crumpled piece of yellow paper seemed innocent at first glance. Carol smiled at the girl who'd laid it on her desk and asked softly, "What's that, honey?"

Sophia Dixon's big blue eyes were already being used to full advantage even before she opened her mouth and dropped her bombshell. "It's my house, Miss Carol, I mean it's my address. Uncle Merle says that I'm to tell ya to come over tonight for a picnic." Her voice lowered to a confiding whisper. "Daddy said he wants you to come too right after he told Uncle Merle he was gonna kick his ass." One small hand lifted to cover her mouth and a tiny gasp escaped Sophia. "I wouldn't supposed to tell you that part, Miss Carol. You won't tell my daddy, will you? Cause then he might wanna kick my ass."

It took every ounce of control Carol could muster to keep from laughing, the woebegone expression the girl was wearing helping somewhat. "I won't say a word," she hurriedly assured the girl. "But, Sophia, maybe you shouldn't say that word, sweetie. I don't think Miss Michonne or your daddy would like it."

"I won't say it no more, Miss Carol, I promise!" Sophia promised breathlessly, a sunny grin splitting her face. "So, you'll come tonight then. To my house. For a picnic." She whooped excitedly when Carol nodded and her little arms wrapped tightly around Carol's waist. "I'll show you my book and my room and we can play with my toys! It'll be so much fun." She darted off to her seat and immediately began whispering with Judith Grimes.

Carol watched them for a moment and then turned her attention to the rest of the class, clapping her hands to get their attention. "Okay, boys and girls, we're going to do centers first thing this morning. After that, we'll work on the next section of our workbook."

* * *

Daryl stood in bemused silence, watching as his daughter and brother turned their kitchen into mass chaos within a matter of minutes. Sophia chattered to herself as she lugged in pile after pile of dolls and blocks from her room and deposited them on a corner of the table. Merle had the freezer door open, muttering as he went back and forth between what looked like a package of chicken and a pack of steaks.

"You think your gal might like venison," he asked over his shoulder, chucking the chicken back on the shelf and withdrawing a butcher paper wrapped bundle. "I think there might be just enough here to make a decent meal. If she ain't never had it or don't like it though, we might be in trouble. Might oughta stick with chicken."

Daryl rolled his eyes and then covered them with his hands, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed lids. "I don't think it matters either way. She'd probably take a bologna sandwich and thank you, Merle. No need to go all out. Carol ain't like that."

"Fuck, boy," Merle shot him the stink eye before ducking his head back into the freezer. "I know I taught you better than that. Shit, boy, it don't matter if she ain't like that or not. She's a lady and we're gonna treat her like one. That means we ain't giving her a bologna sandwich and Grippos, you hear me. We're gonna do it right."

Throwing his hands up in resignation, Daryl stomped to the pantry and tossed a handful of potatoes into a bowl along with a bunch of carrots. "Fine. Whatever. Go with the venison then. But, for Christ's sake, Merle, watch your mouth." He jerked a thumb toward Sophia, who was busily arranging her dolls.

The meat was on the grill not too long after, bits of fat hissing and smoking as it dripped through the slats onto the smoldering coals underneath. The vegetables were washed, sliced, and tucked into little cossets of foil to roast alongside the meat. Merle popped open a beer and took up watch over the grill while Daryl busied himself in the kitchen, brewing up their momma's special iced tea with a peach syrup. He sliced up watermelon and put it in the refrigerator to keep it cool, shooed Sophia outside to keep her from being underfoot and watched the clock like a man possessed. Six o'clock came and went but there was still no Carol.

He was about to resign himself to breaking the bad news to Sophia when the doorbell chimed. Wiping his suddenly damp palms on his jeans, he ambled to the front door and pulled it open. A deep voiced "woof" greeted him and the thumping of a tail against the wooden porch drew his eyes down. Daryl stared for a half second and then he laughed.

The basset hound was low slung, fat but not quite butterball, and wiggling a mile a minute when he realized he had an audience. He gave another of those ringing barks and nosed Daryl's boot excitedly.

"Quit, Lincoln," a cross voice ordered sternly. "Sit. Stay." Daryl laughed again at the hangdog look the hound put on before dropping obediently to his haunches. "Sorry," Carol said breathlessly, trying to balance a stack of Rubbermaid storage containers in one hand and hold the dog's leash in the other. "He's not usually so loud."

"He's fine," Daryl assured her, reaching out to relieve her of the covered dishes that were teetering precariously in her uncertain grasp. "You didn't have to bring nothing," he remarked, giving them a curious look as he took them from her. "We're supposed to be feeding you, not the other way around."

Carol smiled her thanks and then schooled her expression to one of haughty disdain. "I'll have you know that my mother taught me to never show up empty-handed, Mr. Dixon. I may not always act like a lady but I was raised to be one." She leveled a finger at the bottom dish. "That's zucchini bread. The middle one is chocolate chip cookies. The top one," she gave him a look that said the top one was the piece de resistance. "That's my grandmother's peach cobbler. The recipe has been in my family for generations."

He couldn't stop the little groan that escaped him then. Peach cobbler was his favorite dessert, one he hadn't had since his momma passed ten years ago. His brows furrowed in suspicion. "Merle tell you to make that?" When she stiffened and let her eyes narrow, he knew immediately that he'd messed up. "Sorry. It's just that peach cobbler is my favorite and I wouldn't put it past that asshole to invite you over and put in an order while he's about it."

Her brow smoothed out and a smile quirked her lips up. "Merle didn't say anything in his note but a time and an address," she told him blandly as she stepped inside and tugged the dog in after. He stumbled aside and watched in wonder as she strolled down the hall like she owned the place, that damned dog plodding at he heels. "Sophia might have mentioned something before Tara picked her up," she called back over her shoulder and then laughed when he cursed under his breath.

* * *

The flickering light of the citronella torches burning at each in of the deck, lent a golden glow to the gathering. Daryl scraped the last few bites of cobbler from his bowl and sighed regretfully when he took in the empty dish. He flipped his big brother the bird when Merle chortled softly and ate his last few bites amid much lip smacking and groans of pleasure.

"Boys," Carol admonished from across the deck where she and Sophia sat with their heads together over the fairy book. "Stop."

"He's whining cause i got the last of the cobbler, sweetheart," Merle confided with relish. "When something's that good, it's every man for himself, little brother."

Not having a ready comeback, Daryl sat his bowl on the railing and reached down to pet the dog lounging at his feet. Lincoln's tail thumped in time with the slow scratch Daryl gave the hound's dangling ears. "Who's a good boy?" he crooned. "Who's the best little man?"

Sophia laughed when Lincoln rolled on his back with his paws splayed out and whined. "Rub his belly, daddy," she called gaily. The hoot of laughter morphed into a tired yawn and the little girl rubbed her eyes with her fists. "He likes it," she finished in a blurry tone.

"Time for bed, little bit," Merle announced as he stacked the dishes up to take inside. "Say goodnight to Miss Carol and let's head in. You still gotta take your bath."

The girl set her mouth in a mutinous line and jutted her chin until she received a look from her father that cut the defiance off at the knees. "I want Miss Carol to help me," she grumbled. "I want her to tuck me in."

Both brothers opened their mouth but Carol chimed in, "I'd love to, Sophia, but you're going to have to show me where everything is and tell me what to do. Kiss your daddy and Uncle Merle good night and we'll go on in." Elation painted the little girl's face and she leaped to her feet and scampered across the deck to do just that. "G'nite, daddy. love you," she said as she hugged him tightly.

Daryl hugged her back and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Night, baby. Sweet dreams." He watched her repeat the process with his brother, unaware that he was being watched in turn. When Carol ushered Sophia inside, he let out a breath and took the beer Merle offered, ignoring the smug expression the asshole was wearing.

"I'm gonna turn in too," Merle announced unexpectedly, ignoring the shocked look Daryl turned on him. "Been a long day. Leave the dishes, bro. I'll get em in the morning before work. Tell Carol I said goodnight."

"No problem," Daryl returned, shaking his head as he watched Merle amble inside. He was staring moodily into the dark when Carol reappeared and looked around in confusion. "We've been set up," he informed her in a tired tone, too weary to offer an excuse she probably wouldn't believe. "Thanks for taking care of Soph," he said instead. "She's thrilled that you came tonight."

Carol sidled closer and propped up on the railing a few feet away. She followed his gaze across the dark expanse of yard, clicking the heel of her boot against the railing absently as she studied the dappled shadows dancing on the small pond at the edge of the property. "She's very sweet," she murmured quietly. "Hard to tell her no." Her eyes swung back to him. "What about you? Were you thrilled I came tonight?" He stiffened in alarm, his mouth falling open as he searched for something to say. Carol eyed him, her face giving nothing away, and she slid off the rail, landing lightly on her feet like a cat. She stooped down and picked up the blanket she and Sophia had used earlier before making her way to the stairs that led from the deck to the lawn.

"Where you going?" he questioned huskily.

"I want a closer look at your pond," she answered, still wearing that enigmatic expression. "And I want you to come with me." Without another word, she bounded off into the night like a doe, leaving him with little choice but to follow.

* * *

They sat side by side on the blanket, watching the how the wind made endless ripples on the surface of the water. Crickets chirped from the treeline and fireflies were little golden specks darting here and there. Daryl watched her out of the corner of his eye as she leaned back on her palms, tipped her head back and let the wind play with wayward strands of hair. Her sigh was as soft as the warm breeze.

He fisted the blanket, fighting back the urge to kiss her, to tumble her back on the blanket and make the world go away. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he gave himself permission to look his fill. The way the moonlight slivered her hair and made her eyes gleam. The pale curve of her neck and the faint thrum of her pulse in the hollow. He knew from a stray memory of her porch on another night that the tiny vale would smell of lilacs and be soft as velvet to the touch.

"Fuck," he breathed and dropped his head into his upturned palms, shuddering when one of her small, strong hands lightly touched his shoulder.

"Do you want me to go?" She asked softly. When he helplessly shook his head, she rose up on her knees and angled toward him, her other hand coming up to cup his cheek. "It's okay, Daryl. I'm scared too. I never expected this."

"What are we doing?" He watched as she leaned in until their lips were just a breath apart.

"I have no idea," she whispered back and canted her head to the side as her mouth found his.

Notes: Grippos are a brand of BBQ chips that are quite popular where I'm from. And yes...they are excellent with bologna sandwichs. Fruit cobblers are a very popular dessert, especially in the south. They consist of sugared or spiced fruit poured into a baking dish, covered in batter and then being baked until the fruit is tender and the topping golden brown. It can be served with ice cream if you like. My favorite, as you've probably guessed, is peach. Thank you for reading. This story is now at the halfway point.


	8. Chapter 8

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach― Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

"Do you want me to go?" She asked softly. When he helplessly shook his head, she rose up on her knees and angled toward him, her other hand coming up to cup his cheek. "It's okay, Daryl. I'm scared too. I never expected this."

"What are we doing?" He watched as she leaned in until their lips were just a breath apart.

"I have no idea," she whispered back and canted her head to the side as her mouth found his.

* * *

He still had no idea what they were doing six months later. Six months of stolen kisses and quiet evenings on the porch tangled together, looking up at the stars. Six months of listening to his daughter's shy laughter and seeing her smile at the woman who'd effortlessly managed to stumble her way into his life and heart.

He refused to name the emotion that welled within him, watching Carol and Sophia together. Weaving flower crowns in the yard. Talking softly with their foreheads almost touching as they worked on a project for school. Chatting across the dinner table, exchanging newsy little happenings about their day. Snuggling under a woolly blanket, the clean sweet scent of soap and strawberry shampoo filling the air, and the low cadence of her voice as she read from Sophia's favorite book.

 _"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river," cried Little Nutbrown Hare._  
 _"I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare._

Carol's voice changed instinctively as she moved from the little rabbit to the big one, grew deeper and gained an inflection that only someone who'd spoken with that same care and tenderness would recognize. Daryl's heart stutter stepped in his chest when she tapered off and Sophia's took up the story, Carol prompting her when she didn't know the words. _That's very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think any more. Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further than the sky. "I love you right up to the MOON," he said, and closed his eyes._

Daryl closed his eyes and held his breath as Carol chimed in, traces of laughter silvering her voice. _"Oh, that's far," said Big Nutbrown Hare. "That is very, very far." Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night. Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, "I love you right up to the moon - AND BACK."_

The silence seemed to stretch out forever, broken only by the rustling of pages and the thump of the book meeting the surface of Sophia's bedside table. The mattress creaked as Carol rose to her feet and murmured goodnight.

"Belle," her little voice was hesitant and full of something Carol couldn't begin to identify. She paused, her hand on the light switch and looked back toward the bed. Sophia's hair was spread across her leaf green pillow like a halo, her small face serious and solemn.

"What is it, Sophia?"

The girl's fingers twisted in the sheets, her blue eyes shadowed as she looked up. "Do you think my momma loved me like that?"

Carol swiftly crossed the room and gathered the girl into a loose embrace, dropping kisses into her wheat gold hair. "I think your momma adored you, sweetheart. You were everything in the world to her...the most important, the bestest and most special gift she'd ever gotten. Your daddy and your Uncle Merle feel the same way."

Sophia grew quiet, her breath evening out as she relaxed into Carol's arms. "Did you ever want a little girl?" The question was asked in an absent tone but the swift flicker of her gaze up and then away revealed the secret intent behind the seemingly innocent inquiry.

"I think I would," Carol replied carefully. "I mean...maybe one of these days...who knows? My momma always said everything turns out the way it's supposed to so I guess if I'm meant to have a little girl, I will."

"Do you think one day...if I'm good and eat all my peas and do my homework...that maybe I could..."

Carol's rounded gaze swung helplessly toward the partially open door, finding him standing there frozen, his anxiety mirroring her own. "I love you, Sophia," she whispered, her arms tightening around the little girl as she rested her cheek against the top of her head. "That's for keeps, never mind the peas and homework, okay? Too the moon and back."

"To the moon and back," Sophia echoed in awestruck tones. "I love you too, Carol." She curled up on her side, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and her favorite doll tucked into the crook of her arm. Carol smoothed the blankets and then flicked off the light, making sure the nightlight was burning before closing the door.

Her wary gaze fell on the stock still figure still hovering a short distance away. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. Carol crossed her arms protectively out of habit, constructing a makeshift barrier between them. She stopped a few steps away from him, noting the telltale muscle twitch in his cheek.

"No matter what happens with you and me," she stated without preamble. "I do and will continue to love your daughter. Nothing changes that. You need to know that from the start." She squared off with him, her chin tilted and her eyes determined. "That being said, what do you want to do? I'm happy, Daryl, here with you and Sophia. So very happy. But whatever you want, whatever you need...that's the bottom line."

His chin dropped into his chest, one weary hand lifting to press tiredly against his closed lids. Then he looked up and she was caught, breathless and boneless, by what she saw in his face. He closed the distance between them, tracing the line of her jaw with a calloused finger before cupping her cheek. "To the moon and back," he mumbled hoarsely and then he kissed her for all he was worth.

(Sophia's storybook is "Guess How Much I Love You" by Sam McBratney)


	9. Chapter 9

a/n Last one, lovelies. I couldn't continue to write these stories without the encouragement and support of those who take the time to read them. Thank you

 _Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No.  
It is immortal as immaculate Truth,  
'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth,  
Drops from the stem of life—for it will grow,  
In barren regions, where no waters flow, ~Harley Coleridge_

Barely six months after he told her that he loved her, he put a ring on her finger and gave her his name. Twelve months after that, Sophia became a big sister when Samuel Merle Dixon made his red-faced, squalling entrance into the world.

His Uncle Merle took one look at his namesake and announced that he was a Dixon through and through. Two pairs of blue eyes…one blinking hazily at a new world; the other blinking through a haze of tears…stared at the other transfixed. Sam squawked uncertainly, his tiny hands waving as Merle pushed the blanket aside so that he could examine the boy. "He looks just like Daryl," the man whispered, almost too quietly to hear. "He was a little bitty scrap of nothing with a good set of lungs too." Merle freed up one hand to lay it gently on Carol's shoulder. "You did good, momma. You did just fine."

Carol's lip trembled, tears sliding unimpeded down her cheeks as she watched the big man cradle the baby oh so carefully in his arms. "We're naming him Samuel after my father," she confided, her expression gratified when he nodded in approval. "His middle name, if you're okay with it? We'd like to call him Merle." For the rest of her life, Carol would remember the look on his face when Merle realized what she'd said.

"Hey, little man," he murmured to the baby cradled in his arms. "Sam Dixon. It's a good name, boy, and a fine name. You're gonna do right by it, you hear me? You will."

Unable to watch them any longer, Carol darted a look at her husband, who was sitting in a chair in the corner cradling their exhausted daughter who'd finally given up the ghost and was now sound asleep. His face…oh God…the look on his face as he watched his brother speaking to his son came close to tearing out her heart. Carol knew how close the Dixon brothers were, how dedicated they were to each other despite their frequent disagreements. She saw every bit of that bond etched on Daryl's face in that moment; reflected in his eyes. It had been the two of them against the world for so long. Before Sophia. Before Carol. Before Sam. In her whole life, Carol had never seen a love like that. But now she lived and breathed it. Her children lived it. She couldn't ask for anything more.

She looked very much the way she had the first time he'd seen her standing by that red Triumph. He let his gaze take a leisurely tour of her form before meeting her knowing gaze.

"See something you like?" She quipped playfully.

"See something I love," he returned, offering up a sideways smirk. "Didn't know you were coming by though. I told ya that Sam was spending the afternoon with me. Soph is over at Judith's house. They'll drop her off later."

Carol hooked her thumb in her belt loop and tilted her head to the side. "I had another reason, an important reason, for coming by. It's a surprise though. I just didn't want you to talk me out of it."

Brows crinkled in confusion, Daryl followed his wife's gaze over her shoulder and then snorted out a disbelieving laugh. "You gotta be fucking kidding me, Carol. Have you lost your mind?"

"I just wanted to return the favor, Daryl. I mean, we owe him. Look how much trouble he went through for us."

"He'll never go for it," Daryl rubbed his eyes tiredly. "You know he won't. Shit, Carol. What'd you tell her?"

It was Carol's turn to smile smugly. "You must have a low opinion of me, Dixon, if you think I'd stoop to such an amateur move as trying to fix Merle up by myself." She looped her arms around his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. After brushing his lips lightly with hers, she whispered, "Sophia was ever so happy to tell her how Uncle Merle always took care of her whenever Daddy had to work late. Dance lessons. Homework. Reading her bedtime stories. He's not such a big, tough badass after all."

Daryl laughed outright and then kissed his wife soundly. "Fed her a good line of bullshit then, the both of you. God only knows how much whitewash it took to make Merle come out ahead."

"I'm willing to put my money where my mouth is," Carol announced with a challenging glint in her eyes. "Are you?"

Aware of how they'd settled their bets in the past, Daryl knew that win or lose; he would enjoy the hell out of the outcome. "You're on, lady."

"Merle, gotta customer," Daryl hollered across the bay.

"Hell, Darylina, can't you see I'm up to my elbows in what's left of this motor? Tell Martinez to take it." Merle's muffled voice came from underneath the hood of an old Ford they'd already killed the morning on.

"No can do, brother. You're the only one who knows anything about this model."

The garage was filled with the sound of Merle's swearing as he threw his tools aside and stopped long enough to kick the Ford's front tire before making his way outside. Daryl ghosted along behind him, shushing Carol as she brought up the rear, Sam cradled on her hip.

"What seems to be the…" Merle trailed off as the prospective customer and their bike came into view.

The vintage Harley Davidson was something to see but the female standing alongside was what drew his gaze. She was close to six feet tall, hair as black as a raven's wing falling in loose curls down her back. Her dark eyes studied him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Merle Dixon," she said in cool, lightly accented tones. "I hear you're the man to see when it comes to these kinds of bikes."

It took all of three seconds. One. Two. Three.

Merle straightened, threw back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Well, darlin, of course Ole Merle knows all there is to know about a Hog, but before you tell me what's wrong with the bike, how about telling me your name?"

Her Cheshire cat grin mirrored the one Merle currently wore. She proffered her hand, "Eleanora Gargulio. I'm a friend of Carol's."

Merle chuckled and shot a glance over his shoulder where the pair hovered; silently promising that payback would soon be his. "Well, sugar tits, if it's all the same to you, I'm gonna call you Nell."


End file.
